


let the fires i start light the way

by NoContractTermination



Category: NCT (Band), SM Rookies
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:25:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8047642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoContractTermination/pseuds/NoContractTermination
Summary: Youngho's aversion to romance and lasting relationships is lonely and short-lived, and Taeil, literally without intentions, ends up undoing all the crooked nails and beams holding together Youngho's life.





	let the fires i start light the way

Youngho didn't know what to expect to happen to him during move-in week. The university was less than a two-hour drive from his home, and most of his classmates from high school went there, and thinking about associating with them for another year godforsaken year felt like finding warm chewing gum every time you put your hand under a desk. That was why he’d taken a gap year in the first place— he’d worked a little, an unpaid internship at some corporate office that mainly had him running coffee; he’d traveled, gone back to America for a time to meet up with old friends and classmates; he’d done some reading, learned some coding and programming in his spare time, worked out and practiced with a dance crew once a week or so. The end of it was neither disappointing nor exciting— he probably should’ve made some goals or done something concrete with his life, but now that it was over, packing up and whipping out the old binders and notebooks felt like just going back to the daily grind.

It had been a miracle he was accepted to the upperclassmen dorm farther from campus— the only dorm without an adjacent dining hall freshmen were allowed to live in. His roommate was a sophomore, a Moon Taeil whom he found with minimal sleuthing on Facebook, but his two or three public profile pictures were taken from far away with the same group of (admittedly attractive) people each time, so Youngho had effectively no idea who to look for. They exchanged a few short emails, and though Taeil never said much, he always headed and signed his emails formally, as if he were talking to a professor.

Youngho’s parents had helped him sort through some things, but Hansol told him to pack light because most of the shit you thought you needed you eventually never used, so Youngho managed freshmen move-in day by himself with two suitcases and a backpack.

He could live like this, a peaceful and eerily empty flat on one of the top floors of an unassuming building overlooking the edge of campus. He could live like this, with a quiet and polite Moon Taeil, and they’d go about their days and sometimes ask for toothpaste or contact lens solution, and it’d be over in a few months.

There was a party scheduled for one of the frat houses nearby that night, upperclassmen and people in his dorm only, like some kind of pseudo-initiation. Tomorrow was when Taeil would be moving in, and Youngho could conveniently sleep through the whole thing.

It was a bad idea. It was a bad idea, and he was trailing behind some kinds from his dorm for a couple steps before they noticed him and gregariously invited him along, down a street lined with manicured birches, up a driveway covered in sloppy handwriting, up to a door where the music blared from through the cracks in the insulation right into the space between Youngho’s bones and his better judgment.

—

It had definitely been a bad idea.

The headache was wearing off, which meant Youngho’s memory was coming back as he eased in and out of consciousness, vaguely aware of quiet footsteps padding around the room and the familiar noise of drawers rolling against their rails.

As planned, Youngho had slept through the meek entrance of Moon Taeil. Youngho blinked through squinted eyes at the young man opposite him in the room, and suddenly, he was significantly more awake.

A good way to describe Taeil would be that if you'd never seen gay porn before, you’d now be _very_ interested. Fortunately, Youngho was more than bisexual enough to have marked that indulgence off his bucket list. Apart from the obvious— lithe frame, sloping jawline, bright eyes, Taeil was also straw colored hair that was simultaneously thin and stuck out in thousands of different directions; Taeil was all compact softness, like a flattened, rolled up pastry; Taeil was smooth, tired skin wrapped in a pullover that was way too big for him and gave him these adorable sweater paws, the tips of his fingers poking out of the sleeves as he fiddled with the zipper on his suitcase. Youngho was supposed to be napping, or at least pretending to, but he ended up staring at Taeil for longer than he anticipated until suddenly Taeil was standing in front of him, waving a sleeve in front of his face and assaulting him with wafts of the sweet, homey smell that must’ve been distinctly Taeil.

"Are you okay?" Taeil said.

"Hello, gorgeous," Youngho mumbled, and Taeil raised his hand to his mouth, smacking Youngho in the face with the end of his sleeve on the way up. The smack was probably needed, because Youngho then, while shaking himself out of sleepy stupor, realized what he’d just said. Ah, fuck.

" _Oh_ ," Taeil replied, his voice muffled by his hand.

Youngho eased himself up from his bed, figuring he’d just go with it; he’d already fucked up this much, so did he honestly have more to lose? "I—I didn’t mean that. I mean, I _did_ —" he said stupidly. "I mean, I’m. I’m Johnny. Youngho. Seo Youngho. You can call me whatever."

Taeil paused for a second, the ends of his eyes crinkling into a hesitant smile. "Okay, Whatever," he said quietly, and Youngho sighed, smiling back.

"I just. Sorry, you’re. You’re pretty. I mean, good-looking," Youngho said, aware of the hair plastered to the side of his face and the fact that he was wearing a plain white t-shirt and sweatpants that smelled like cheap alcohol.

"You’re…not too bad yourself?" Taeil said, finally taking his hand from in front of his mouth and rubbing the back of his neck.

None of the particular parts of Taeil’s face stood out much individually, but when put together they harmonized like an award-winning acapella group. He was all round, soft edges and plains of skin, small features and high cheekbones. "I shouldn’t have made this awkward," Youngho said. "We’re going to be roommates. And on top of that, I’m a freshman. Really, I’m sorry."

"Oh, don’t worry about it," Taeil said. "I—I just don’t get that a lot. So I was questioning your taste there for a moment, and maybe your vision."

Youngho laughed and stretched his arms out. "I’ll have you know I haven’t taken my contacts out since yesterday morning. And I’m currently regretting it immensely."

Taeil chuckled and walked back to his suitcase, tipping it onto the ground. He almost seemed to be deliberately hiding his body under layers of loose clothing— the sweater, another shirt underneath of some sort, slightly baggy jeans that rolled up at the ends, small sneakers. It was a shame, really, but Youngho didn’t need an obvious hard-on and another reason for Taeil to file a restraining order against him hardly minutes after they’d met. "Would this help? It’s new, still sealed and everything. Just picked it up from the store an hour ago or so," Taeil said, tossing Youngho a small bottle of eye drops, which he caught gratefully.

He shouldn’t have gone to that party last night. The alcohol was bad, and it was a hassle having to keep a constant an eye on his drink. Hard drugs were too easy for college kids to get, and dealers had plenty of practice blending in with the rest of the crowd. Freshman had been dropping to the floor like children in an ice rink around him, and the last glance he took before slipping out the back gate looked like something out of an episodic crime show.

The eye drops stung but refreshed his vision. "Rough night?" Taeil said, and Youngho blinked.

"Never again," he muttered.

Taeil laughed. "Really," he said, humming. "You don’t look like the type."

"To know my limits?" Youngho said, raising an eyebrow.

"Ah, that came out wrong," Taeil said, sheepishly rubbing his neck. It was a cute look. "You seem like the type to… enjoy yourself. Party hard, maybe."

"Maybe I _am_ enjoying myself," Youngho replied, lying back on his bed and absently going through numbers on his phone, deleting a majority of them. "Right here, right now." The unspoken clause, of course, was Taeil’s unexpected presence, anchoring Youngho to a dorm room he suddenly never wanted to leave.

"That’s good," Taeil said, and when Youngho looked up, Taeil was looking directly at him, his smile all cheekiness, like a check to the highest better. "Me too."

—

The first thing Ten said when he met Taeil was, "Can we adopt him?"

Taeil’s friend Doyoung had arranged some sort of reunion at a restaurant near campus during the freshman orientation assembly that Youngho was supposed to be attending but decided not to, being the absolute hellbent _rebel_ he was, or so Taeil put it. To be honest, Youngho had sort of invited himself to Taeil’s gathering, but Taeil had seemed grateful for his company on the walk over. Taeil promised it would only be Doyoung and one other person, which was certainly preferable to the student orientation, no matter how entertaining it was advertised to be.

Doyoung, who was taller and bundled up in about three layers, slapped at a vague area between Ten’s wrist and hand. "He doesn’t need adopting, he’s older than you and could probably kill you in your sleep."

Taeil smiled, and it was all Youngho could do not to stare at Taeil then and blatantly ignore his two friends. In their dorm room, Taeil would laugh quietly at something on his phone or occasionally chew on his lip in frustration while jamming the keys on his laptop, but everything was cool, contained, fenced-in, like a small, well-kept garden. The way Taeil smiled then, though, was both a national treasure and the eighth wonder of the world— unreasonably precious and disappointingly rare. "Not in front of the new roommate, Doyoung," Taeil said, still beaming.

Doyoung hummed thoughtfully. "So this is Youngho," he said. "I’ve heard all about you."

" _Doyoung_ ," Taeil snapped then, much louder this time than he’d probably intended, judging by the way he flinched afterward and shrugged his shoulders up to his ears again.

"Kidding," Doyoung sang, waving it off. He gave Youngho a once-over, which Youngho was used to, but Doyoung’s wide eyes did seem a bit disconcerting at first. "You’re even taller in real life."

"Says the tall one," Ten muttered, punching Doyoung’s shoulder, and Taeil nodded in agreement.

While waiting to be seated, Youngho learned that Doyoung and Taeil had started off introduced as awkward family friends that both happened to be attending the same school, but they’d gravitated toward each other anyway during the bustle of orientation week last year. They were the ones left in their dorms when everyone ran off to frat parties at the end of the night; they were the ones who commiserated in the empty building, singing karaoke in the stairwell past midnight. Ten was a transfer student who’d ended up rooming with Doyoung this year, and despite Doyoung’s aversion to unnecessarily socialization, his innate friendliness had people opening their hearts to him, and Ten was not immune to the effect.

"So, how’s O-week going for you?" Ten said, and Youngho shrugged, surveying the restaurant. It looked like a standard college hangout spot— the homey, wood-paneled interior invited all demographics of students, and most kids flocked around the bar, while some sat with their families in cushy, tucked away booths.

Youngho shook his fringe out over his face after the four of them settled into one of the back tables. "It’s okay," he said.

Doyoung turned to him then, stretching out over the back of his own chair. "That’s a start, okay’s better than _bad_."

"This kid just hangs out in the dorm all day," Taeil said, nudging Youngho's side. "I swear, he’s the biggest loser."

"Um, I think my operation-avoid-high-school-classmates-at-all-costs has been a _success_ so far," Youngho returned, moving his hand over his chest in feigned offense.

Doyoung and Ten looked at each other from across the table, and Doyoung squinted at Youngho imploringly, as if making certain something he’d already known to be true. "Mm, I think I might’ve unintentionally just ruined it."

"What?" Youngho said, and Taeil snorted next to him.

"Seo Youngho, right?" Doyoung said. "I recognized the name as soon as Taeil said it."

"He has a good memory like that," Ten said, perking up.

"Seeing you in real life confirmed it," continued Doyoung. "We were in the same graduating class. That’s partly what I meant when I said I knew all about you, you know."

Youngho's shoulders must’ve visibly slumped, because Ten grinned then, saying, "Disappointed that it wasn’t Taeil ceaselessly texting Doyoung about his new, gorgeous, tall roommate?"

Doyoung barked out a laugh, and Taeil kicked him from under the table. Youngho squinted, looking at Doyoung for longer than even he felt comfortable, trying to trigger some sort of memory or flashback or something, but all that came to him were the faces of people he’d rather not remember: the dictating student council, the trashy 3E kids, some of the average joes that all faded into a blur half the time, kids who got suspended every few weeks or so. "Not ringing a bell," Youngho said, and Doyoung rolled his eyes.

"That's because I tried pretty hard to stay away from fuckboys like you," he said coolly.

Youngho frowned. "I'm a fuckboy?"

Even Taeil laughed at that, looking at Doyoung and Ten, who looked caught between giving Youngho a blank stare and bursting into laughter. "Dude, you're like king of the fuckboys. Just look at the way you dress."

Youngho huffed out, "Okay, just because I'm not wearing preppy khakis and a fucking polo doesn't mean I'm a fuckboy."

"Okay, you're right, at least you’re not wearing one of those Letterman jackets," Doyoung said. "But you hung around those people in high school, I saw you."

Fair enough. High school was supposed to be a mess of discovering yourself and finding your place in the world, but it more often than not turned into a clusterfuck of sex, drinking, stabbing your friends in the back, and watching as they burned at the stake of superficial social hierarchy, not unlike in politics or the corporate machine. Youngho wasn’t so arrogant as to imply that his high school experience didn’t fit entirely into that mold; in fact, he was more or less the definition of it. One of these days he'd have to apologize to Hansol about nearly fucking some girl on his bed during a party and then throwing up as soon as she wandered out of the room. Youngho sank down in his chair, as if he'd just been scolded by his mother, and Doyoung's satisfied expression didn't help. "Okay, so this is maybe what I meant by trying to get a new start," Youngho said, and Doyoung smiled.

"Hey, kudos to you, mister Not Necessarily A Fuckboy," Doyoung said, and Youngho flipped him off, much to Doyoung's smug amusement. "I’m just wondering how Moon Taeil over here got stuck with this loser."

"I requested random housing," Taeil replied. "I thought I told you that last semester."

Doyoung hummed. "Wasn’t there that one guy from your floor last year, Taeyong?"

"You know Taeyong had other friends," Taeil said, looking down and playing with the ends of his sleeves. He was going to get holes in them at this point, and suddenly Youngho had a distractingly domestic image of Taeil mending the holes in his sweaters, clad in a plain, off-white apron with various pieces of thread strewn across a small breakfast table. It wasn't an unwanted image, but fleeting thoughts of being married to a man he’d literally just met were at best unfamiliar and at worst the crushed hopes and dreams of your parents embedded into your brain the night you were conceived: frightening and melodramatic. Then again, the whole heart-fluttering, smile-cherishing bullshit was pretty goddamn melodramatic, too, and those kinds of feelings hadn’t emerged in the casual fucks Youngho had recently, if ever. Everything about this was uncharted territory—college, dorming, open gayness, and even having the space in a group of friends just to speak freely, not to mention having anything of value at all to add to the conversation—but at least the vastness of unknowing wasn’t _entirely_ unpleasant.

"Nah, Taeyong's only other friend was dance. He literally moved to be closer to the studio," said Doyoung.

"Or that girl he met in his whatever dance whatever class last year," Taeil retorted.

They fell into silence, and Doyoung stared at Taeil with wide eyes, as usual, laced with a tinge of something sad, like pity.

"Is he— is he straight?" Youngho said stupidly to break the silence, and Taeil shot him a look.

Ten, though, seemed happy to go along with it, offering, "He's about as straight as a tree. That’s been struck by lightning."

"The hell is that supposed to mean," said Youngho.

Doyoung explained, "He's, like, mostly straight except for some experimentation which may or may not have been precipitated by disastrous natural causes." Ten nodded.

"Okay, so what am I, then?" asked Youngho, leaning on his arm and picking at remains of the little side dishes from the beginning of their meal. He stole little glances at Taeil—who seemed to be expertly dodging them— because suddenly, looking straight at Taeil seemed like lifting a mountain, even though not fifteen minutes ago Youngho could barely keep his eyes away.

Doyoung glanced around for a moment, as if surveying the area, which made Taeil laugh lightly and Youngho's heart bend against his will. "To be completely honest," Doyoung whispered, "you're maybe as straight as my ass—"

"Doyoung’s got a nice ass," Ten added.

"Thank you," Doyoung said.

They weren’t wrong. Open queerness was _new_ , but at least it _was_. To say Youngho didn’t want to make a big deal out of it would’ve been the understatement of the century. It wasn’t like one day, you just _know_ ; he’d been toying with the idea for a few years, and once when Hansol talked about how his gay penpal friend from Japan (Hansol was known to spend an inordinate amount of time on the internet— the true number of hours per day still had yet to be determined) was having family issues, Youngho said suddenly, "I think I’m bi."

"Cool," Hansol had replied, "but I was kind of in the middle of talking, and Yuta’s having a crisis over here."

Those kinds of replies were why Hansol was one of the only friends Youngho kept throughout high school. So then it was Confirmed, and Youngho was Out (to Hansol), and it was a Thing. And it wasn’t like being a whole new person, but it definitely felt a lot more vulnerable, whether or not other people could tell.

"But," Doyoung continued, "for you, it's not something straight dudes would notice. You've got it best: you look, well— straight, but you get to enjoy both flavors."

Ten grinned then, holding his hand up, and Doyoung grabbed it. "Nice one," Ten said, and Doyoung nodded.

"Are you making fun of me?" Youngho said, pouting and looking at Taeil, who was smiling behind his hand. "They're making fun of me, aren't they?"

"You asked for it, _loser_ ," Taeil said.

"Hey, we’re not wrong, are we?" Doyoung said, though his toothy grin hinted that it was more of a rhetorical question. Youngho instinctively looked at Taeil then, who’d turned his gaze down to his hands in his lap again, playing with the ends of his sleeves.

"Hey," Ten said, clapping Youngho’s hand in his. "We’re all friends here, right? Aggressively bisexual friends? In the twenty-first century? Who are going to get this shit sorted out before we all become roommates? Because communication is a good thing?"

Doyoung laughed. "You’ll learn Taeil’s a little constipated when it comes to communication," he said. "And if Youngho here is, too, then we’ve already got ourselves a _fascinating_ year ahead of us."

Youngho flinched and looked away, because hanging out with fuckboys in high school wasn’t exactly an environment conducive to developing a mastery in healthy relationships. Mentioning that he'd accidentally called Taeil gorgeous immediately after meeting him didn’t seem like a great idea, much less mentioning that he’d may or may not have spent most of the afternoon staring at Taeil’s ass and the backs of his thighs, trying to parse their shape under his loose-fitting, straight-cut jeans. Doyoung seemed like the protective if not a bit overwhelming type, though his form was so slim Youngho could probably sock him a good one if he tried, but that wouldn’t be helpful in accomplishing his second operation, which was getting in Taeil’s pants. Or maybe his bed, just to cuddle. Or maybe his sleeve, to hold his hand.

Ten seemed to be reading his mind, because he thought it apt to mention then, with a grin, "Doyoung here may not look strong, but once he got a guy sent to jail just for looking at him the wrong way."

"That was last year, and you weren’t even here for that!" Doyoung snapped, and Ten laughed, shielding himself with his shoulder as Doyoung slapped at him weakly.

—

The night was a sharp kind of chilly, like the color periwinkle or the way Youngho's mother chided him when he used to stay out past his curfew nearly every weekend. Taeil tucked himself closer to Youngho as they walked back to their dorm and streetlights grew and receded past them to the beat of their steps. Taeil fit comfortably in the crook between Youngho’s elbow and his body when he stuffed his hands into his front pockets, and Youngho liked to hope it wasn’t a coincidence, that they molded up against each other like soft books packed on a shelf.

"…Did you like Taeyong?" Youngho asked suddenly.

Taeil coughed. "You make it sound like he died," he replied quietly into his jacket, zipped up past his chin. "Yes, he was my friend."

"But did you _like_ him?"

"Oh my god, you can’t even say the word _love_ , you really _are_ a fuckboy," Taeil said in a half-squeal, his voice breaking in the middle.

"Why do you guys keep saying that?" Youngho groaned.

"But why are we talking about this?!" Taeil retorted back, shoving Youngho off the sidewalk with his shoulder. Youngho stumbled with a quiet _oof_ , and turned back to see the tail end of Taeil’s satisfied smile.

After a couple minutes of silence, Youngho said, "But did you?"

"Oh my god," Taeil repeated with a groan. "He was nice to look at, okay? And a pretty nice guy, on top of that. You don’t run into those very often."

"I’m right here, you know," Youngho said, but Taeil didn’t laugh, seeming lost in thought somewhere that you couldn’t find no matter how hard you looked, like if it were there but not, just a fraction of a dimension away.

"Doyoung didn’t like him," Taeil continued in a voice softer than before. "He said Taeyong’s straightness offended him. I didn’t believe him." Taeil kicked at a pebble that sailed across the pavement and landed in a crack between two blocks of sidewalk. "Guess Doyoung knew before I did that I did kind of _like_ Taeyong, a little."

Youngho put his arm around Taeil’s shoulder in a gesture that was trying to be comforting but instead felt like when someone told you their mom had cancer and you suddenly remembered all the times you felt like throwing yourself off a cliff because the internet wasn’t working. But Taeil leaned up into Youngho’s arm, which was a good sign, and okay, now who was the one comforting who here? "That was the longest I’ve heard you talk at once," Youngho offered, and Taeil came back then, responding with some sardonic version of his mini-smile.

"Of course it had to be about Taeyong," he said, and Youngho patted his shoulder.

"Hey, I’m the one who asked," he said.

Taeil laughed lightly. "Right, I can just blame you."

 _I’d let you do anything to me_.

"I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m. I’m not very good at expressing myself," Taeil said a little while later. "Doyoung and Ten were right about me being emotionally constipated."

Youngho hummed in response, carousing in the feeling of Taeil’s small body tucked under his arm and Taeil matching his steps so that they could stay that way, balanced there in the periwinkle blue.

"So," Taeil continued, "if there’s something you want to say to me, don’t count on me to ask about it."

Taeil wouldn’t move away. He couldn’t. He might flinch, or jump a little, but at that moment, Taeil under his arm was decidedly the most important thing in the world, so what else did Youngho have to lose? "I’m bi," he said to the sky.

"I thought we went over this already at dinner," Taeil said.

"Mm," Youngho replied. "I just felt like saying it just to you." The sky winked back at him a thousand times, as if teasing him. "You know, because we’re going to be roommates and all that."

"Yeah," Taeil said after a pause. "Roommates."

—

Never again, Youngho attempted, but the self-reminders were starting to get redundant. But then again, so was the regret.

Youngho eased himself into their room, a sliver of light from the hallway flooding into an already diluted darkness— Taeil liked to keep the blinds open at night, which didn’t bother Youngho. The shower had helped a little, at least to wash away the _physical_ evidence of immensely stupid decisions, but the blunt headache lingered like a blurry shape in the fog. It was the last party before classes started, and okay, maybe the first one had been a fluke, and maybe navigating those things took some time to get used to, and maybe Youngho could hook up with someone there who’d help him forget about Taeil for two goddamn seconds. Not that there was anything wrong with thinking about Taeil, it was more a matter of curiosity about whether or not he could ever stop.

Needless to say, none of those things happened.

Youngho rubbed his hair with a towel and tossed it over the back of his chair before falling into bed unceremoniously. The bed creaked loudly in protest, and Youngho heard a laugh disguised as a cough from the other side of the room.

Taeil was tossing around in bed; he must’ve been trying to keep quiet, hinted by the careful, slow sound of crisp sheets folding against themselves. "Taeil?" Youngho mumbled, and the soft hum that Taeil replied with would be forever etched into Youngho's memory. "You awake?"

"Couldn't sleep," Taeil said, his back to Youngho.

Youngho mumbled something unintelligible, then after a few moments, said, "Excited about classes?"

Taeil laughed lightly. "I've done it before, it's not that exciting."

"Right, I keep forgetting you're older than me," Youngho said.

Taeil sat up. "Is that supposed to mean something?" he said, a teasing lilt to his soft voice. Youngho was so thoroughly whipped.

"No, no, _hyung_ ," Youngho said, laughing, and after a moment Taeil lied back down. Youngho still felt a little woozy from the party; his alcohol tolerance was decent from previous experience, and he hadn't had much— the worst part was already over, which meant unimpaired judgment was kicking back in, which didn’t give him much time to pretend he had the balls to do the things he'd been meaning to do for the past week.

He didn’t want to think about why he looked forward to waking up to Taeil every morning, when usually the last person he’d want to see at school was the girl he’d fucked the previous weekend. And thoughts about how Taeil’s soft voice made Youngho both stupidly giddy and sick to his stomach at the same time were certainly off-limits. And then there were all the times where Youngho was sure he’d been acting obviously lovestruck as all hell, but Taeil had never commented about it— those thoughts and the mixed bag of emotions that clung to them like deadweights were probably the most unwelcome of the bunch. Blame that Youngho had been tagging alongside Taeil like a lost puppy on the fact that Youngho was a freshman, and blame the excessive staring on Youngho's newfound infatuation with strange people, but what could explain all the stupid shit that he'd say whenever Taeil directly addressed him? What were the moments when Youngho made some shitty, unfunny pun and he found himself instinctively looking at Taeil through his own laughter to see if Taeil was laughing as well? And what was that godawful yet addicting feeling when he noticed that yes, Taeil _was_ laughing? How the hell was he supposed to know all this shit?

Youngho slid out of bed, feeling ridiculous in his t-shirt and boxers, his legs kicking out from under him like long, gangly shoelaces. Taeil was still facing the wall, and there was a faint glow on his face from his phone screen. "Um, Taeil," Youngho said when he approached Taeil's bed, and Taeil stiffened slightly. Youngho put his hand on Taeil's shoulder, which must've been up to his ear at that point, and gently pushed it toward the bed so that Taeil was lying on his back, his gaze focusing on some speck on the wall and pointedly avoiding Youngho, who couldn't tear his own gaze away from Taeil's face. Taeil illuminated by ambient light from neighboring windows looked ethereal, his face a soft, silk pillow against his bedspread.

And then Youngho leaned down before the alcohol wore off even more because fuck rational decisions; Youngho would have to make those for the rest of his life. But one day before college really started, one night where time seemed to freeze at a pivotal point in his life, the world was balancing on a fulcrum between stupid excuses and dangerous risks, and falling back into old, tired patterns wasn’t how Youngho had met Moon Taeil in the first place, and repeating the same goddamn mistakes of high school wasn’t why Youngho was here now, staring into the face of this ridiculous unassuming crush. The ridiculous unassuming crush that Youngho wanted desperately to kiss— to run his hands through Taeil's hair, to feel the soft curves of Taeil's waist that he'd been late to club meetings and campus tours to peek at when he knew Taeil showered in the morning.

So he did just that, registering a faint, "Youngho—," fron Taeil before their lips met and Taeil melted against the hand that was pushing his chest lightly into the bed.

Taeil's lips felt like how Youngho imagined them but softer, tackier— Taeil must’ve used chapstick before bed, mildly mint-scented, enhanced by the toothpaste in his breath. He embodied freshness and the sensuality of pliant skin against Youngho's fingers— simultaneously hesitant and willing. Taeil was the one who reached his hands up and weaved them through Youngho's hair, wet from his shower and dripping down his neck and onto Taeil's bed.

They broke apart for a moment, lips still resting against each others', and Taeil murmured, "God, you're hot," in a low voice which went straight to Youngho's dick.

"I've been wanting to do this for so long," Youngho admitted against Taeil's lips, pressing again at them insistently, which Taeil swallowed eagerly once before pulling away again.

"By that, you mean a week?" Taeil said breathlessly, laughing as Youngho kissed the corner of his mouth, then molded their lips together again to shut Taeil up. Taeil removed his hand from Youngho's hair to lift the blanket, and Youngho's heart started pounding in his throat.

Okay. This was it. This was fucking it. The drop in Youngho’s stomach had to have something to do with the fact that he’d never had sex with a man before. Taeil’s sheets crinkled stiffly under his comforter, and when Taeil shifted, his shirt lifted up, revealing a generous patch of pale skin against his bedspread. And it seemed to be beckoning Youngho's fingers there, to touch greedily, to map and memorize. He looked from Taeil to the empty space, then back to Taeil again, whose shy smile was beginning to fuck with Youngho’s mind. "Come on," Taeil whispered, and, yep, that was fucking it.

Youngho pushed the sheets aside and climbed on top of Taeil, knudging his legs apart and kneeling between them, kissing him slowly, lazily all the while, purposely ignoring his body's subtle little pleas for more. Taeil arched his back underneath Youngho, and Youngho could _feel_ the space between them lessen, the charged air spiking that much more, making Youngho shiver when he finally looked down to Taeil baring his neck for him, panting quietly. Youngho paused for a moment just above Taeil's skin, drawing out whatever reaction Taeil would have, and it was worth it: Taeil _whined_ , reaching his hands up to grab the back of Youngho's neck and force his face into the space where Taeil's neck met his collarbone. Youngho happily lapped at it, sucking and biting a bruise there and drowning in Taeil's immediate response. Every time Youngho felt like he might've bitten too hard, Taeil's breath rushed out in a desperate gasp and his hand tightened in Youngho's hair. "You like that?" Youngho said, and honestly where the hell was he going with this, but Taeil's moan encouraged him. "Me marking you up like this?"

"Feels— good," Taeil gasped out, "hot, _fuck_."

Youngho growled— the curses delivered in Taeil's soft voice also seemed to be bypassing his brain and going to his groin, and his dick twitched in appreciation.

"More, more," Taeil said, and if there was one thing hotter than Taeil whispering, it was the moment his voice broke from a whisper into a high whine, loud even against the muffled music from nearby dorm rooms.

Youngho pushed up from the bed, separating their bodies and staring down at Taeil. Bleary-eyed and dazed, Taeil was the picture of fucked out, his shirt pushed up to just below his chest where Youngho's hands had been wandering absently.

Youngho had never had sex with a man before. There was gay porn, sure, but if straight porn was anything to go by, porn wasn’t exactly the most accurate representation of real sex. There was the option of letting Taeil lead, but Taeil looked more than happy to lie there and let Youngho have his way with him, which would’ve been fine if Youngho knew anything about _how_ to have his way with him.

Taeil’s breathing slowed down slightly, and a distant throb of panic was starting to settle in when Taeil’s gaze flicked up toward Youngho. "You’re straight," he said between breaths.

"Bi," Youngho corrected pathetically.

Taeil stared up at Youngho for a moment through half-lidded eyes, which were becoming more alluring with each passing second. His lips then unexpectedly quirked up into a lopsided grin. Taeil lifted his arms lazily from the bed and locked his fingers behind Youngho’s neck, pulling him back down with a surprising amount of force. "How about," Taeil mumbled against Youngho’s lips, "I tell you what I want you to do to me?"

Youngho nearly choked on his spit, trying unsuccessfully to respond to Taeil’s bruising kiss. Taeil bit down on Youngho’s upper lip, then shyly nursed the area with his tongue, flicking it in and out of Youngho’s mouth teasingly, and _god_ it was hot. When Youngho sucked Taeil’s tongue into his mouth, Taeil smiled against him and wove his fingers up into Youngho’s hair again.

"Do you have lube," Taeil mumbled against Youngho's lips, and Youngho nodded, breathing an exaggerrated sigh when he pulled away from Taeil, and Taeil teasingly following him made it that much worse.

Youngho stumbled out of the bed and over to his own side of the room, a pounding in his ears muffling everything besides Taeil's shaky breaths.

Taeil burst into a twinkling giggle when Youngho reached into the bottom of his laundry hamper for the lube. "Because under the mattress is cliché?" he said.

"I didn’t really think this through, okay," Youngho admitted, and the picture of Taeil smiling fondly with his head resting in his hand had Youngho scrambling back over, kissing Taeil’s mouth way too enthusiastically.

Taeil made a noise of surprise but shifted his head so that they weren’t knocking noses and responded with the same enthusiasm. He tugged Youngho onto the bed and pushed him so that he was sitting against the wall, his legs still dangling over the side, toes curled so hard they were almost cramping. And then Taeil straddled his hips and it was the hottest thing ever, and one of Taeil’s breaths against his ear had to have had the hint of a laugh when he felt Youngho shift his legs to mask his dick aggressively hardening.

"Pretty," Youngho murmured, watching Taeil kick off his boxers behind him and running his hands up Taeil’s thighs, feeling them flex as Taeil lifted himself up.

"You too," Taeil whispered, and he ground down on Youngho’s dick to emphasize, ripping a groan from Youngho.

Taeil’s ass was soft and pliant like the rest of him, and Youngho let his fingers skim over the knob of Taeil’s tailbone, into the crack of Taeil’s ass, and Taeil _whined_ , arching his whole torso against Youngho’s.

"Please," Taeil said, rocking back against Youngho’s hand.

It was pretty obvious what Taeil was asking for, but teasing him made it better. "I thought you were going to tell me what to do," Youngho said, and Taeil groaned.

"I want you to finger me," Taeil said flatly, but even that was hot, all his words slurred together like that.

Youngho distracted Taeil with kisses and nips to his collarbones as he popped open the lube; that much he’d done before, that much he could do with his eyes closed. The lube dripped down his fingers, and Taeil must’ve noticed because he pushed Youngho’s head back then, whispering into his ear, "Finger me until I come."

" _Fuck_ ," Youngho growled. "I could come from the sound of your voice alone."

"Noted," Taeil said, letting out a long breath as Youngho eased his middle finger inside him. "I haven’t," he breathed with a light laugh, "done this in a while."

"I’ll take care of you," Youngho said quietly, and Taeil hummed in satisfaction. Steadying himself on Youngho’s shoulder, Taeil trained his other hand down Youngho’s shirt, playing with the hem of it slightly (fuck, if he kept doing that Youngho knew he’d get hard every time Taeil played with his sleeves in public, too) before slipping his hand underneath the fabric. Youngho jerked, a laugh bubbling in his chest because he was ticklish there, and when he crooked his finger accidentally, Taeil almost screamed. Precome dripped from Taeil’s dick and Youngho rutted against it desperately, and Taeil’s hand, quick as lightning, flew down to Youngho’s dick, stroking it in time with Youngho stretching him open, slow, deep thrusts of two fingers now.

Youngho was close to coming, from the feel of Taeil clenching and loosening around him as his thighs shook with effort, sweat dripping into each other when they kissed sloppy and lewd and disgusting, all tongue and open mouths. From how uneven Taeil's breath was to his hand losing rhythm, Youngho could tell Taeil was close, too. The volume and pitch of Taeil’s voice went up, and Youngho thrust his fingers into him harder, faster every time, scissoring and curling them and drowning in Taeil falling apart in his hands.

The scream when Taeil came was broken and desperate and everything imaginable, and Youngho made him feel like _that_ without even touching him, and then Youngho was coming too with a long groan.

His fingers felt good inside Taeil— warm, as Taeil still shuddered around him, blinking his eyes blearily and watching Youngho come down from his high. Taeil was like jelly at this point, melting against Youngho’s chest and quickly falling asleep, only stirring when Youngho guided them both into a lying position and eased his fingers out of Taeil.

Taeil turned away from Youngho but pressed back into his chest like a cat asking for pets, and Youngho wrapped his arms around Taeil in response. "I think I’m in love with you," Youngho realized out loud, and Taeil squeezed his hand.

—

Taeil had been right: it really wasn’t that exciting. The slight pulse of anxiety before Youngho’s first class— some introductory economics— paled in comparison to how his heart froze over last night when he’d seen Taeil illuminated by whatever ambient lighting came in from the window and under their door. And now he was being sappy and stupid and melodramatic, all the things he attributed to lovesick fools. That which he was.

Youngho had stirred when Taeil woke up, stroking Youngho’s arm absently for a few minutes before getting out of bed. He whispered, "I’m going to take a shower."

"I know," Youngho said back, and Taeil paused for a moment, then scoffed in realization and kissed the tip of Youngho’s nose chastely.

Youngho was going through his university email when Taeil returned, all clean and sweet and warm and Taeil, and Youngho became distinctly aware of how disgusting he was.

The feeling of _wanting_ simultaneously to keep and to spoil and to protect a single person so strongly was absolutely foreign, but when it hit, it hit with the force of waves propelled by a hurricane, thousands of gallons of emotion all at once, so hard you couldn’t help but recognize it. When Taeil stood there, returning Youngho’s affections just by existing, it was like the world decided to fashion some kind of purpose _for_ Youngho out of thin air, and the vastness of unknowing wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

**Author's Note:**

> This might've sounded angsty in the beginning but... I dislike angst! The tone is mild but everyone is happy, I promise!
> 
> I've always wanted to do a completely shameless uni AU, and hopefully more installments in the same universe are coming. The only thing I've decided so far is Dojae, but idk the rest of them will be a surprise I guess, haha. Thanks for reading!


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